Forgiveness and Comfort
by darkforetold
Summary: Dean/Sam. Underage/Incest. After a terrible nightmare, Sam seeks forgiveness and comfort from his only salvation; his older brother Dean.


Sam woke with a start and a whimper, soaked to the bone in his own sweat. He had had another nightmare. And like all the ones prior, it had been terrible. Bloody. Dean had been—no. Sam didn't want to think about it. It was too much for him to handle. Especially when it was so dark here in his room. He didn't dare close his eyes because Sam knew the nightmare would play again on the backs of his eyelids. It was better not to think about it at all.

He rubbed his face and nose on his sleeve to wipe away the tears that had formed in his eyes. His heart thumped wildly in his chest and his gut twisted with anxiety. Partly because of the dream, but also because he had disappointed Dean. Because, time after time, Sam couldn't sleep in his own bed without having a nightmare. Sam had promised Dean that he'd try and sleep by himself tonight. Promised that he'd try to go back to sleep even if he had a bad dream. Sam knew immediately that he couldn't do that. There were too many shadows looming high and hulking in his room. Too many sudden noises that sent goose bumps up and down his skin. He missed how warm and close Dean had always been, how safe and protected Sam felt while sleeping beside him. Sam longed for that now. But he couldn't bear Dean's disappointment.

Sam sat in limbo, stuck between what he should and shouldn't do. A sudden scraping noise against the window made the decision for him.

In a flurry, Sam leapt up from the bed and ran out of his room as fast as his feet could carry him. The house was tiny and Dean's room was just down the hall. Dad had promised that they'd try to live a normal life and had rented a house for them to live in like a regular family. So far, they had lived here for a month versus the two weeks or less in other places. Sam didn't care how long this fairy tale would last them. He only cared that he was with Dean.

Sam stopped outside Dean's room and peeked in. The moonlight came into the room from the window above the bed, illuminating Dean with silvers and blues, making him look like an angel. Sam's salvation. The sight of Dean sleeping, so peacefully in his own bed, made Sam feel even more guilty. When would Sam learn to take care of himself? When would his older brother finally not have to look after him? Dean finally had his own room and went to school, ate at a dinner table and watched TV. Like normal kids. Sam didn't want to screw that up. Especially not now. Not when Dean looked so happy.

Sam backed out of Dean's room and peered over his shoulder. The hallway to his own room was foreboding, threatened to swallow him up if he dared venture back. The play of light and dark cast long fingers along the wall, stretching out for him, clawing at him. Another sudden noise caused Sam to yelp and scurry further into Dean's room, toward the one person that had ever made him feel safe.

"Dean…"

Sam's whisper fell out of his mouth weakly. He sounded like a mouse in a field whose tiny squeak did nothing to affect the bigger picture. Sam wanted Dean to wake up, to invite him back into the bed with him. He wanted Dean to hold and soothe him, to make all the bad feelings go away. But Dean couldn't do that when he was sleeping. He looked so happy and Sam would have to ruin it all to get that comfort. He was just so scared to see Dean's disappointed face. Sam didn't want Dean to hate him.

"Dean…"

Another whisper, more desperate. Sam was on the verge of tears and could feel them forming at the corner of his eyes. He just wanted Dean to wake up. Please.

"Sammy..?"

Sam was blown over by relief and took that as his immediate cue to scramble onto the bed. It took him only seconds to snuggle up against Dean's side, pressing his face into his big brother's chest as if he needed to hide from the whole world. Dean hadn't invited him back into the bed, but he didn't care. Sam needed that comfort and he needed it now. He couldn't think about anything else. Everything else was just too scary.

"I had a nightmare—"

"Ah, shit."

"I tried. Dean, I tried. I really did. Please don't be—"

"Sammy. It's okay."

But was it? Sam felt entirely guilty, a feeling that didn't go away even when Dean wrapped an arm around his shoulder. The anxiety raged on inside his gut and chest, constricted him in a way that was too uncomfortable. When he was younger, he'd get rid of the bad feelings by sucking on his thumb. But Dean had put a stop to that years ago. Dean had always said he'd get buck teeth. Sam had stopped immediately because Dean had said so. But Sam could never quell that urge. Sometimes, when he had nightmares, Sam would roll over and cuddle next to Dean. So close that it was as if they had become one skin. Just having his face and lips and hands on Dean's skin soothed Sam during those tough nights. When Sam was even younger, Dean said that he'd wake up to him nuzzling against his chest, mouth on nipples and sucking away. Every chance Dean got, he'd comment on how fucking weird that had been.

But in Sam's haze of deep fear and anxiety, it didn't seem weird at all.

Sam pressed his face into Dean's warm skin, inhaling his scent and savoring everything that made Dean who he was. Sam couldn't help but nuzzle him affectionately and breathe a sigh of relief. The sound of Dean's heartbeat had always been soothing to him and Sam sought it now, ear to chest. Dean's heart quietly thumped, set to a rhythm that was all lethargic and calm—the exact opposite of Sam's. Instead of even and controlled, like Dean's, Sam's heart pounded out a series of frantic notes against his bones, beats that each had their own name; fear, dread, anxiety and self-loathing. And his only goal was to quiet those emotions, just enough to be able to fall asleep at Dean's side. And he'd do anything for that again. To earn that right back. Because, in his mind, Dean was angry and disappointed in him. He'd just have to make Dean happy again.

But first, Sam had to soothe himself.

Sam rested a hand across Dean's stomach while he moved his mouth into position. And while Dean breathed evenly, so close to falling back asleep, Sam sent a tentative lick along his nipple. Just that small action had a various effects that hadn't happened before. Like a gunshot blast, Dean's heart jolted to life and then sped up like the Impala's engine. The gasp from Dean's throat nearly startled Sam and it was followed by the arching of his back, the tightening of fingers on his shoulder. Sam didn't quite remember Dean reacting like this.

"Sammy... what are you doing?"

Sam didn't have an answer nor did he really care to give Dean one. All Sam knew was that he wasn't hurting Dean and doing this made Sam feel good—maybe even made them both feel good. Sam licked at his nipple again and felt Dean shiver. Did it several more times to feel Dean shudder again and whimper.

"Fuck."

Sam didn't stop and went even further, bringing the hard nub of flesh entirely into his mouth to suck. To suck hard like he had always intended to, like he used to when he was younger. Dean shot up with the arch of his back again and groaned, dug his fingernails into Sam's shoulder. It hurt but Sam didn't care. Sam could feel himself grow calmer while he sucked, flicking his tongue over the nipple just to see how Dean would react. Dean whimpered again, a noise that sounded like something coming from one of those movies he liked to watch by himself—movies that Sam couldn't watch with him. Dean's moan sounded dirty, like he was enjoying this. Like he'd be closer to forgiving Sam for being so stupid and selfish.

When Dean's hand came out of nowhere, Sam was immediately afraid that he'd be pushed away. That Dean would stop all of this from continuing. That Dean would tell him to go to his room and hate him. But he didn't. Instead, Dean's hand fell to his boxers, folded over the bulge there and pressed down. Another groan fell from Dean's throat, deeper and dirtier than the ones Sam had caused. The lingering fear and worries disappeared and were replaced with something more fierce; jealousy. Jealousy because Dean's hand was doing a better job than he was. And that was simply unacceptable.

Sam flung Dean's hand away and resumed sucking, running his tongue over the nipple while his own hand went to work. Dean didn't squirm when Sam pressed down on his hard cock, but gasped instead. His gasp turned into a groan, long and filthy with the jerk of his hips. Even with the soft material of boxers between hand and stiff flesh, it felt hot to the touch. Blazing heat and desperate whimpers encouraged Sam to continue, inspired his hand to slide over the entire length of it. Another groan from Dean and then..

"This is so fucking wrong."

The words fell on deaf ears because Dean said it in a way that was entirely breathless, like he wanted whatever this was and didn't want it to stop. And Sam didn't. He was too curious and too set on pleasing Dean, hoping that, with every stroke of his hand, he'd be forgiven. He wanted so desperately to be forgiven.

Sam sent another lick over the nipple, mouthed it hard. While Dean whimpered, Sam wondered what his big brother would feel like in his bare hands, how hot he would feel then. Explorative fingers dipped below the hem of the boxers to find the head of Dean's cock, to timidly brush over it. It felt hot and wet and satin-soft all at the same time. And Dean's reaction to the touching couldn't have been more beautiful. His groan was so raw and deep, honest and fragile. It sounded like forgiveness. But he was far too addicted to Dean's noises to stop. Far too addicted to the act of pleasing Dean, making him feel good for all the times his big brother had sacrificed for him.

Sam kneaded and stroked Dean's cock, explored everywhere and touched everything. And every time Sam moved his hand even a little bit, Dean would react in a way that left Sam wanting to give more. He abandoned sucking and licking Dean's nipple to place his mouth somewhere else. To swallow down Dean's dick with no warning at all. This time, Dean gasped loudly, arched his hips up so that he'd slip further into Sam's mouth. Yet the movement didn't seem to be intentional at all. In fact, Dean seemed surprised… by everything.

"Holy shit."

Dean tasted salty, thick, and burned hot against his tongue. Because Dean was so big, his cock filled Sam's mouth entirely. Sam didn't know what he was doing, just knew he wanted to suck. Hard. Like he had sucked his own thumb all those years ago. So, like sucking anything, Sam applied that knowledge to whatever this was. His cheeks hallowed out while he did it and Dean groaned loudly. Too loudly. And each time his big brother moaned, Dean tilted and jerked his hips upward to push his cock in further. Further until Sam gagged a little and slid his head back in defense, running tight lips along his length. It earned Sam another pleasurable whimper, more needy and desperate than all the others. Dean's hips shot up again and his moan sounded like he was begging. And it sounded beautiful. Finally, Sam learned and found the rhythm in his up-and-down motion, sliding back with hard lips pressed together before diving in again, allowing Dean's cock deeper into his mouth. Sam could feel Dean come undone beneath his affections, his body quaking as if it would soon explode under the pressure. Dean's groans were close together and growing more intense, seeming as if they were gravitating toward a significant send-off. Something that suddenly Dean didn't seem to want.

"Sammy, stop."

But Sam didn't listen, even whimpered when Dean tried to pull him off. Like his older brother was trying to save him from something yet again. Sam knew what was going to happen, but didn't care. Nothing could have prepared him for the actual event. No warning led to the sudden explosion in his mouth, plentiful and filthy, with fluid he had no choice but to swallow. It tasted bitter and was too much, but when Dean cried out his name, all of the bad taste melted away. Sam knew he had made Dean feel good. And that was all that mattered.

Sam backed away and wiped his mouth while Dean lay there, panting heavily with his eyes closed. Dean looked as if he had run a marathon, sweaty and out of breath. And Sam was amazed that he did that to him. That he could make his older brother feel that way, to leave him in such a wrecked state. Sam felt proud, like he had finally done something right. That he was closer to becoming a brother that Dean was happy to have.

Dean didn't move for some time, not until his breathing became slow and even. Sam didn't want to disturb him. When Dean finally opened his eyes, Sam couldn't help but jump at the chance to seek much-needed validation.

"Was it good?"

Dean could only nod.

"Then… you're not mad at me? I mean—for not being able to sleep in my own bed?"

Dean just stared at him, opened-mouthed like he was in shock. "N—no. I can't be mad at you for that."

Sam beamed. "Good. I tried. I really did."

Sam settled in next to him before Dean could respond. It felt perfect to be tight against him again, warm and protected. Nothing compared to how satisfying it felt. The end of the world could come and Sam wouldn't care because they had each other.

Nothing would change that.


End file.
